


Small Surprise

by notmadderred



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Gen, M/M, Secret Santa, Vampires, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:07:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28317240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notmadderred/pseuds/notmadderred
Summary: Simmons’ head was literally buried in the sand right now, and all he could think about was the fact he was glad Donut hadn’t come by and made a comment about his butt in the air.Instead, his company was to be found in Grif, who was basically exactly nothing at all like you would expect a vampire to look or act like but apparently that’s what he was.“What the fuck are you doing? You look like an idiot. Well, more like an idiot than usual.”
Relationships: Dexter Grif & Dick Simmons, Dexter Grif/Dick Simmons
Comments: 6
Kudos: 28





	Small Surprise

**Author's Note:**

> Happy holidays! I was the Secret Santa for the delightful @real-deal-rvb-quotes on Tumblr!
> 
> I hope you enjoy <3

Simmons’ head was literally buried in the sand right now, and all he could think about was the fact he was glad Donut hadn’t come by and made a comment about his butt in the air.

Instead, his company was to be found in Grif, who was basically exactly nothing at all like you would expect a vampire to look or act like but apparently that’s what he was.

“What the fuck are you doing? You look like an idiot. Well, more like an idiot than usual.”

_I hate you,_ Simmons played in his brain as he burrowed his head deeper in the sand. _I hate you I hate you I hate you._ No more light was visible at this point with just how far he had burrowed in, so that was an accomplishment.

“Is this your way of hiding from us? Because if Sarge hasn’t killed you yet, I really doubt he ever will.”

Why was he such a fucking idiot.

Simmons put his butt on the ground with a huff. Some sand went up his nose, and he fell into a fit of buried sneezing and feeling like holy shit I’m inhaling a whole fucking lot of sand and it’s getting a bit hard to breathe maybe this was a bad idea after all; I mean I already knew it didn’t accomplish anything but I did it anyway because it’s better than dealing with this shit.

He was pulled out of the hole by his tail.

Simmons yowled on his way out but otherwise didn’t actually fight. He _did_ glower at Grif because it was what he deserved.

Grif glared back at him. “Look,” he said. “It’s not my fault you were the dumbest fucking werewolf alive. Don’t tell me you believe that shit like-- what? Did you think we couldn’t walk in daylight? Don’t appear in mirrors? Averse to garlic?”

Donut _was_ allergic to garlic.

“We didn’t expect a werewolf to strut into our nest like you did, and then the topic of being vampires just never came up. Now stop looking at me like that.”

Simmons had been sleeping in the same house as the apparent “enemy” for almost a month now and hadn’t even realized it. Fucking hell.

“Dude. I can’t talk to you about this if you stay in werewolf-dog form or whatever.”

They barely really talked anyway. Well, they talked all the fucking time, but _really_ talk. About, like, important shit. Such as this.

Simmons turned back human and crossed his arms, still glowering at Grif. He could feel the sand in his hair but opted to ignore it. “Fine. Human. Happy?”

“You don’t need to be such a dick about it. Yeesh.”

“ _I’m_ the-- you-- I-- but you all--” Simmons scrambled to his feet so he was standing eye-to-eye with Grif. “I’m not being a dick! I’m mad because I was staying with a bunch of vampires when vampires have notoriously killed a shitton of werewolves, which _newsflash:_ I am! So of course it’s relevant and of course I’m upset!”

He was still in some awe that at the very least Sarge hadn’t killed him.

Then again, Sarge was surprisingly a good person. He’d taken in Simmons’ stray ass when he showed up out of nowhere half-dead and nursed him back to health… kind of. But either way, he had let Simmons stay with them no-questions-asked even after they found out he was a werewolf when he apparently changed into a human mid-procedure and scared the shit out of Doc, Sarge’s “assistant.” 

“All this is telling me is that we had good reason not to tell you we were all vampires,” Grif continued, looking bored. “Besides, just as many werewolves have killed just as many vampires. Doesn’t mean everyone’s an asshole. ‘Sides, we saved you and whatever.”

“Fuck off,” said Simmons because he felt like he otherwise had to concede to the point. The vampire versus werewolf sentiment was basically nonexistent here -- Sarge did have something against some Blues and nobody was keen on explaining what he was talking about (besides Grif calling him a crazy old man and snarking that the Blues apparently had a nicer place anyway, which led Simmons to believe that they were probably also vampires. Jesus fucking Christ. What had he stumbled into.), but Simmons had still pretended to be dedicated to the apparent “cause,” and Sarge announced that he was proud to have a werewolf in their ranks, especially a werewolf that could kill Grif. Hm. “You’re all crazy.”

“Oh, really? I’m so fucking surprised. So what now?”

Simmons blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Like, what are you gonna do now? Kill me? Run away and look for some other werewolves? Howl at the moon and other shit?”

Simmons blinked again. “Uh.” He didn’t really have a plan beyond ‘be upset.’ And that was quickly dissipating, as it tended to when dealing with Grif. 

“Nothing? No ten-page procedure already laid out on ‘what to do if my roommates are vampires’?”

“Well, uh.” Simmons scratched behind his ear. “I mean, I wasn’t really planning on doing anything.”

Grif stared on at him. His eyes narrowed a minute amount. “What?”

“I mean, I was planning on staying. Y’know. Uh.”

Grif’s eyes narrowed even further. “You threw this massive little tantrum _why_ , then?”

“Because it’s a big deal!”

“That doesn’t mean you act like a moron!”

“I was in a state of high emotion! That’s what people do when in states of high emotion!”

“Nobody fucking does that! It’s literally just you, Simmons!”

“I just felt like a fucking idiot for not being able to smell that you weren’t human okay!” Simmons was practically screeching at this point. His voice may have cracked.

“Yeah, not gonna lie, I assumed you knew already because of that. Pretty fucking stupid on your part.”

“Fuck you.”

Grif gave him the middle finger.

“Ugh. Whatever. I hate you guys.”

“Lucky me. Now I don’t have to hear you ramble about _Star Wars_ anymore.”

“But you love _Star Wars_!”

“Of course I do, but you’re a nerd, so I’m gonna make fun of you for your nerd things and habits. How about you fix up the spreadsheet you undoubtedly made ranking the best and worst qualities about each of the movies.”

“Shuddup.” Simmons did have a spreadsheet, and he did want to revamp it. Goddammit. He was too predictable. And he wasn’t hating the fact that Grif was transitioning them back to their natural banter.

“I was in _Star Wars_ , y’know.”

Simmons blanched, then immediately shook his head. “You’re full of shit.” 

“It’s true. I’m in there.”

“Which movie.”

“Dunno. Guess we’d have to watch them all over again to find out.”

Simmons scoffed and shook his head. “I seriously hate you so much. You know that? And you’re talking about the originals, right? Not the prequels?”

“Of course I’m talking about the originals. And why do you hate me; you love those movies. Don’t bitch about doing something you enjoy.” Grif was side-eyeing him, his posture still slouched, some of his stomach exposed from where his hoodie was riding up. How the fuck was this guy a vampire? If anything, he looked like he should have been a werewolf, but apparently stereotypes really were useless.

“Wait. What the fuck? I’ve seen you eat all kinds of shit. Does that not make you sick, holy fuck? When the hell are you like… doing like… vampire stuff? Drinking blood or whatever? Can you sustain life off of other stuff? Wait, are you actually like werewolves and can shift between vampire and human form? Can you turn into a bat--?”

“I’m gonna stop you right there. _Fuck_ bats. We can’t turn into bats, and that would be literally the worst idea ever. Bats suck. They’re awful little rabies-shits and I want nothing to do with them. Do you understand?”

Grif was pointing at him now and glaring. There was no way he was human because if he was, Simmons would bet he’d be breathing super heavy with how much he’d worked himself up there. Over bats, no less. “Sure. You’re scared of bats. I get it.”

“I’m not scared of bats! I just reasonably don’t like them, which is fair because bats are the worst.”

Simmons gave him an unimpressed look.

“I’m not scared of bats!” Grif repeated, throwing his hands in the air before huffing and shoving them in his hoodie pocket and forcing his back into a slouch. Jesus. “You’re so annoying.”

“And you didn’t answer any of my questions. Are you technically alive or technically dead? Or do you even know like is this a Schrodinger situation where you can’t tell until you test but oh God do you die when you test it and can you say the word God or does that hurt do vampires have weaknesses because I don’t get how exercise is such a weakness for you if you’re a vampire and therefore it literally has almost no effect on your physical well-being what even is with you and--”

“Shut up, oh my fucking God, Simmons. You’re such a fucking nerd.”

“I have questions! That’s perfectly reasonable.”

“It’s annoying.”

“Well, if you start answering them, then we can move on and actually watch _Star Wars_ rather than stand around in the heat all day and get sunburnt. Can you get sunburnt?”

Grif did a long-suffering sigh, and after several moments, “Even before I became a vampire, I didn’t get sunburnt. So, no. And I’m technically dead. I hate exercise as a personal prerogative because exercise is stupid, especially when it does literally nothing for you. And I just hate it. It’s a waste of time.”

“And standing around for hours doing nothing isn’t?”

“Correct.”

“What about napping? Are you actually asleep all the time or are you just pretending that you are to get out of doing chores?”

“I’m actually napping. What the fuck. Can you imagine not being able to nap? I would rather be actually dead, and that’s a fact.”

“And the eating?”

“I eat whatever I want. I built up a tolerance for-fucking-ever ago because I’m amazing.”

He had an interesting definition of ‘amazing,’ but whatever. “And drinking blood?”

“Sometimes when you’re sleeping I drink some of yours.”

Simmons staggered backward, squawking incoherently. “W- wait, but you-- do all of you-- that’s not--”

“It’s a joke.” Grif’s lips were quirked up in a half-smile, looking largely unfazed though amused by Simmons’ reaction. 

Simmons ignored his own subsequent amusement, hiding his smile behind a vehement, “You’re the worst.”

“Meh. You love me.”

“You’re still the worst.”

“And you didn’t deny it. This is like _Twilight_ except better. There had to be Edward and Jacob shippers, right? This is like that.”

Simmons squinted at him. “I don’t know what any of that means. I haven’t seen _Twilight_.”

“What? Neither have I, but I still know the pop culture references. What the hell, Simmons? You’re really letting me down again. I’m reversing my confession. No forbidden werewolf and vampire shit anymore.”

Simmons… may have been beginning to catch on. “Like Romeo and Juliet?”

“Not anymore.”

“I never said that I-- you were just making assumptions like-- I’m--” Simmons nervously scratched behind his ear. “Um!”

“Woe is me, and yadda yadda yadda. I really thought we had something, Simmons.” Grif dramatically clutched his hand over his heart. “You wound me.”

“I don’t know what’s happening!”

“You’ll figure it out when you’re older. Are we watching _Star Wars_ or not?”

“ _Wha--!_ How old are you? OhmyGod, were you flir-- nonono, I hate you, I hate you so fucking much Grif you’re the worst and I _mean_ it this time.”

“Uh huh. Great. Now that we’ve established that, are we watching the movies or not?”

Was really nothing changing between them? “Um.”

“You can try to ask me out later or something. I know nerds need time to process that kinda shit.”

He felt his entire face go pink. “Um,” he repeated.

“Great talk, Simmons. Why don’t you--”

Simmons shifted back into a wolf.

“-- there you go. Now you can _really_ avoid stammering and blushing. Well done.”

Simmons huffed and had half a mind to trot away.

“You go sniff out some oreos. Or you can steal from Donut’s wine and cheese stash, I don’t care. I’m gonna start the movies.”

And he was gone.

Simmons blinked. Well, fuck. So apparently vampires were fast.

He sighed and began jogging in the direction of Donut’s room. Wine and cheese was technically romantic, and that was as far as Simmons was willing to go. 

And cuddling only seemed so much like cuddling when you acted more as a warm, soft blanket than a person. So pseudo-cuddling.

God-fucking-dammit. He really, really hated Grif; but unfortunately, he still loved him.

Fucking dick.


End file.
